I woke three days later to the sound of hammering from the forge and sunlight streaming through my window.
The difference was immediate and profound. My body, while still weak by any normal standard, no longer felt like it was made of brittle glass. I could move without tremors, breathe without the persistent ache in my chest, even sit up without assistance for the first time since the confrontation with Bai Wuchang.
Liu Ruyan entered carrying breakfast and stopped short when she saw me sitting upright, examining my hands in the morning light.
"少主 is awake," she said, relief evident in her voice. "And sitting up alone. This one was beginning to worry you would sleep through the entire week."
"How long this time?"
"Three days. The physician said your body was forcing recovery—that you had depleted yourself so thoroughly that unconsciousness was necessary for healing." She set down the tray and moved to check my temperature with her hand. "Your color is better. Less like a corpse."
"Such flattering observations."
"This one speaks truth, not flattery. You have looked like death walking since awakening in this world. Today you merely look ill." She smiled slightly. "It is improvement."
I managed a weak laugh. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment. What's been happening while I slept?"
Liu Ruyan settled into her usual chair, but I noticed she looked less exhausted than before—perhaps she'd finally allowed herself proper rest once my condition stabilized.
"Much," she said. "Where should this one begin?"
"The beginning is traditional."
"Very well. The day after the Blood Serpent Gang departed, your father called a full clan meeting—all retainers, servants, warriors, craftsmen. He spoke of the improvements you initiated, the success of the weapon sales, and the breathing room we have earned. Then he did something unexpected."
"Which was?"
"He formally named you as the clan's strategic advisor. Not as an empty title, but with actual authority to suggest and implement changes to operations. Several of the elders objected—you are young, untested in their eyes, and your health is uncertain. But your father silenced them."
I felt a complex mix of pride and pressure. Recognition was validating, but authority brought responsibility and expectations I wasn't sure I could meet.
"How did he silence them?"
"By asking them what they had contributed to the clan's survival in the past year. When they could not answer—or offered only weak justifications—he pointed out that you had accomplished more in three weeks than they had in three years. It was... brutal. And effective."
That sounded like Father—patient to a point, but capable of decisive action when pushed. Still, making enemies of the elders seemed unwise.
"How did the elders take it?"
"With poor grace. But Elder Qingsong—your uncle—spoke in your favor. He said that tradition without adaptation is death, and that you had proven the value of new thinking. His support swayed several others. Not all, but enough."
Uncle Qingsong. I had only fragmentary memories of him from Tie Hanxing's original life—a quiet man who managed the clan's remaining farmlands and stayed out of politics. That he'd spoken up was significant.
"What else?"
"Master Han has begun training his apprentices in the improved techniques. The forge now operates consistently at higher quality. Orders have been arriving—word of our superior weapons has spread faster than anyone anticipated. Lady Huiyue has been managing a waiting list of buyers."
That was good news, though it brought its own complications. Success drew attention, and not all attention was welcome.
"How is Huiyue managing the demand?"
"Carefully. She is being selective about buyers—choosing those with good reputations, diversifying across different merchant houses to avoid dependence on any single relationship. Second Young Master has been helping her with the financial planning. They make a formidable team."
Wenxuan finding his place was perhaps the most satisfying development. He'd needed purpose, a way to contribute that utilized his education without requiring martial prowess he didn't possess.
"And Liefeng?"
"Eldest Young Master has been training the warriors more intensively. He says that while we have bought time with silver and strategy, that time is worthless if we cannot also improve our defensive capabilities. He has been... energetic in his training regimen. Several warriors have complained about the increased intensity."
I could imagine. Liefeng would have chafed at the peaceful resolution with the Blood Serpent Gang—warriors wanted to solve problems with strength, and being forced to rely on negotiation and economics would feel like weakness to him. Driving the warriors harder was his way of compensating.
"Let him push them. We'll need actual defensive capability eventually." I paused, considering. "Liu Ruyan, what do people say about me? The household, the retainers?"
She was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "There is... uncertainty. Some see you as blessed by ancestors or spirits, gifted with wisdom beyond your years. Others wonder if you are possessed, or if your illness has somehow transformed your mind. The servants especially are divided."
"Divided how?"
"Some are devoted—they have watched you suffer your entire life and now see you fighting to save the family despite your weakness. They see nobility in that. Others are frightened—they do not understand how a boy they have known since birth could suddenly speak with authority about things he should not know. Fear and devotion are close companions."
"And you? Which are you?"
She met my eyes directly. "This one made her choice weeks ago. Whatever you are—transformed soul, blessed invalid, or simply someone who sees patterns others miss—you are trying to save people you care about. The source of your knowledge matters less than what you do with it."
The simple declaration warmed something in my chest. In both my lives, I'd never had someone commit to me so completely without demanding explanations or reassurances I couldn't provide.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For everything. For believing in me when I barely believed in myself."
She blushed slightly, looking away. "少主 should eat before the food grows cold. This one prepared your favorites."
The deflection was transparent but I let it pass, focusing instead on the meal she'd brought. Rice porridge had graduated to actual rice with vegetables and strips of preserved meat—a sign that either my recovery was progressing or she'd decided I needed more substantial nutrition. Probably both.
As I ate, she continued her report. "Your mother wishes to see you when you are recovered enough. She has been worried. And your second brother has been asking daily when you might be available to discuss plans for the coming season."
"Tell Mother I will visit her this afternoon if I'm strong enough. And Wenxuan can come see me now if he's available. We should begin planning for the next three months while my mind is clear."
Liu Ruyan nodded and left to deliver the messages. I finished eating slowly, testing my body's responses. The food stayed down without nausea. My hands remained steady. Even standing to move to the window was possible without support, though I stayed close to furniture in case weakness returned suddenly.
The view from my window showed the eastern courtyard where the forge operated. Smoke rose steadily from the chimney, and I could hear the rhythmic ring of hammer on anvil. Master Han at work, creating weapons that would fund our survival and build our reputation.
Beyond the compound walls, the mountains of the Northern Wasteland Region rose in jagged peaks, their tops still covered in late spring snow. Beautiful but harsh—much like this world itself.
The door opened and Wenxuan entered, his arms full of ledgers and scrolls. He looked healthier than I'd seen him—less burdened by shame over his interrupted education, more confident in his role.
"You're awake and sitting up," he said with genuine pleasure. "Liu Ruyan said you wanted to discuss planning?"
"We have one season before the Blood Serpent Gang returns. Three months to make ourselves strong enough that they don't escalate demands again. What's our current status?"
Wenxuan set down his papers and pulled a chair close. "Financially, we're in the best position we've been in for two years. The three weapon sales gave us capital, and the ongoing orders are providing steady revenue. Huiyue estimates we'll clear perhaps twenty taels profit this month after covering all expenses and setting aside the tribute payment."
"Twenty taels profit is significant."
"It is. But it's also fragile. We're dependent on Master Han's personal skill and the forge improvements you suggested. If anything disrupts production—if Master Han falls ill, if the forge develops problems, if our ore supply becomes unreliable—we lose that income stream immediately."
Classic single-point-of-failure problem. I'd seen it destroy businesses in my old world—companies that depended too heavily on one product, one client, one key employee.
"We need redundancy and diversification," I said. "Train more smiths to Master Han's new standards. Develop alternative revenue streams. Build reserves that can weather disruptions."
"Agreed. But training takes time, and we have limited resources for expanding operations. The forge can only run so many hours per day, our ore supply is still uncertain, and we have only three apprentices capable of learning the advanced techniques."
I pulled up the Memory Treasure Vault interface. It had been days since I'd used it, and the daily searches had reset.
'MEMORY TREASURE VAULT'
'INTEGRATION STATUS: 82% COMPLETE'
'DAILY SEARCHES: 3/3 AVAILABLE'
'PHYSICAL CONDITION: IMPROVED AND STABILIZING'
'NOTE: USER DEMONSTRATING HEALTHY RECOVERY PATTERNS'
"What if we approached it systematically?" I said. "Not trying to solve everything at once, but identifying the critical bottlenecks and addressing them in priority order."
Wenxuan's eyes lit up—this was the kind of structured problem-solving his academy training had prepared him for. "What do you propose?"
"First bottleneck: forge capacity. We need to increase output without sacrificing quality. Query..." I focused on the system. "Methods for scaling medieval metallurgical operations while maintaining quality standards."
The information flowed smoothly, organized and accessible. Multiple forges operating in parallel. Specialization of tasks—one smith focusing on heating and shaping, another on edge work and finishing. Quality control checkpoints at each production stage. The kind of assembly-line thinking that wouldn't emerge naturally for centuries but could be adapted to medieval craft guilds.
"We could build a second forge," I said, processing the information. "Smaller, specialized for specific tasks. Use Master Han as quality controller and training supervisor rather than having him do all the work personally. The apprentices handle initial forging under his guidance, he does the critical finishing work and inspects everything."
Wenxuan was already making notes. "That distributes the workload and creates redundancy. If Master Han cannot work, production slows but doesn't stop completely."
"Second bottleneck: ore supply. We're dependent on one mine that's supposedly exhausted. But mines don't actually run out—they just become less efficient to extract from. Query: Medieval mining techniques for maximizing extraction from difficult ore bodies."
More information—different shaft configurations, drainage systems, ore sorting processes. Nothing revolutionary, but incremental improvements that could increase yield by twenty or thirty percent.
"The mine needs systematic survey and re-engineering," I said. "Which requires knowledge we might not have in-house. We might need to hire outside expertise."
"That costs silver we'd prefer to save."
"But it's investment rather than expense. Better mine yield means more raw material, which means more weapons, which means more revenue. The investment pays for itself if it increases productivity."
Wenxuan nodded, still writing. "Third bottleneck?"
"Market access. Huiyue is doing excellent work, but she's only one person and can only reach so many buyers. We need to expand our market presence without overextending. Build relationships with merchants who can distribute our weapons more widely."
"That means reputation management and strategic partnerships."
"Exactly. We position ourselves not as desperate sellers but as exclusive craftsmen. Limited production of superior quality. Let scarcity drive demand."
We spent the next hour mapping out priorities and timelines. Wenxuan's organizational skills complemented my strategic thinking—he could take my broad concepts and break them into specific, actionable steps with costs and timelines attached.
"This is ambitious," he said finally, reviewing our notes. "If even half of this succeeds, we'll be in genuinely strong position by season's end."
"And if it fails?"
"Then we're no worse off than we are now. The gamble is worth taking." He looked up from the papers. "Hanxing, what you're doing—transforming the clan through systematic improvements—it's remarkable. But it's also exhausting you. You collapsed after the demonstration and again after facing Bai Wuchang. How much more can your body take?"
The question was fair and echoed my own concerns. The Memory Treasure Vault's integration was progressing, but each percentage point seemed to come with physical cost. I was trading long-term health for short-term knowledge.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I have to try. This family took me in—or rather, Tie Hanxing was born into it—and they've cared for me despite my weakness. I owe them everything I can give."
"They don't see it as debt, little brother. They love you. Not for what you contribute, but for who you are."
"Then I'll contribute anyway. Because love without action is just sentiment, and this family needs more than my affection—they need solutions."
Wenxuan sighed but didn't argue further. Instead, he gathered his papers and stood. "I'll present these plans to Father and Huiyue. Get their input, refine the details. But you should rest more. And when you're strong enough, visit Mother. She's been lighting incense for your recovery every morning at the family shrine."
After he left, I sat by the window watching the forge smoke rise into the clear sky. Three months until the Blood Serpent Gang returned. Three months to transform potential into reality, hope into security.
It should have been impossible. Probably was impossible. But impossibility seemed to be my specialty now.
The Memory Treasure Vault flickered with new information:
'MEMORY TREASURE VAULT'
'DAILY SEARCHES USED: 2/3'
'INTEGRATION STATUS: 83% COMPLETE'
'NEW MILESTONE APPROACHING: 85% (ESTIMATED: 1 WEEK)'
'USER HEALTH TREND: POSITIVE'
'STRATEGIC PLANNING CAPABILITY: ENHANCED'
'FAMILY SUPPORT NETWORK: STRONG AND GROWING'
'SURVIVAL PROBABILITY NEXT SEASON: 71% (INCREASING)'
Seventy-one percent. Better than the twelve percent we'd started with. Still not certain, but better.
I would take better. And keep working toward certain.
---